


too much

by thisprentiss



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Autistic Character, also could be gordlock at the end if u squint bc im Growing Rlly Fond of That Ship, harvey and ed are both great friends to jim tbh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-28
Updated: 2016-10-28
Packaged: 2018-08-27 10:54:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8399002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thisprentiss/pseuds/thisprentiss
Summary: Jim has a meltdown bc of sensory overload & Harvey and Ed help him out. (aka my autistic ass Craves that Representation)





	

**Author's Note:**

> its late at night and im tired but i need more stuff in the autistic character tag for gotham
> 
> also this is an update bc i wrote this in like a half an hour when i posted it so im just Fixing Some Things

Between his coffee pot being broken and his alarm clock going off late, Jim had already been having a pretty awful morning.

The sound of Barbara chatting on the phone with someone was what woke him up, and his heart gave a lurch when he saw that he was a solid fifteen minutes behind schedule.

"Shit..." he muttered, rolling out of bed and throwing his suit on, feeling that slimy vine of anxiety wrapping itself around his stomach the more he thought about how his routine was thrown off. _I'm not going to have time to eat breakfast. Or- breakfast and I could take the bus instead of- no, not the bus, I could- cab? I could call a cab._

Jim tied his shoes quickly and strapped his gun to his side, dashing into the kitchen to rummage through the cabinets. "Hey, B?" he called over his shoulder. The chatting from the living room stopped.

"Yeah?" Barbara sounded annoyed. Probably. Jim let out a small, worried sigh; _does she actually sound annoyed, or do I just think she sounds annoyed because I interrupted her call? Shit..._ "Everything okay, babe?"

"Are there any Cheerios left?" he asked, hoping his voice didn't sound panicked.

"I think you finished them off last night when you came home," Barbara said, "There's Rice Krispies, though!"

Jim grimaced, closing the cabinet and biting at the inside of his cheek. "Thanks, honey," he said as he started to go through the fridge. Barbara's chatting started up again, and Jim could feel his chest tighten up again as she talked. Too much background noise. It was getting harder to focus. Nothing in the fridge looked good. Nothing looked bearable.

 _No breakfast this morning. That's- fine. Fine._ He ignored his stomach grumbling and grabbed up his jacket and phone, heading toward the door. "Hang on a sec, Kath. See you, big guy!" Barbara smiled, waving slightly.

"Bye," Jim couldn't get anything more than that out of his mouth.

The walk to the precinct had him more stressed out than usual. All the sounds were too loud, babies crying, people shouting, talking to each other, cars honking, trains passing overhead, and the light from the overcast sky was too bright, and people kept bumping into him on the sidewalk, and that made him flinch like he was being attacked- and- and everything was just _t_ _oo much._

Jim just put his head down and walked faster.

There was some crook being thrown around the bullpen when he walked into the precinct, and he clenched his teeth together as he walked up to his desk, getting more and more tense with every step he took. His shirt was a little damp from the walk there - it was hot out and he'd gotten a tiny bit sweaty - normally he wouldn't notice, normally it wouldn't feel  _too terrible_ but right now he wanted nothing more than to change clothes or-

"Morning, Jimbo," Harvey was tossing a wad of something wrapped in paper at him before he could even think, "Stopped at Edna's on the way in, thought you might appreciate a li'l pick-me-up. There's a coffee on your desk too."

Trying for a pleasant smile, Jim unwrapped the thing and forced a smile when he saw a blueberry bagel. He set it down on his desk next to the coffee and lowered himself into his chair. He wanted to say something along the lines of, _I didn't get a chance to eat this morning because we didn't have anything that would have been bearable to eat, so this was really nice of you,_ but all that came out of his mouth was, "Thanks, Harv."

"Don't mention it. File on your desk, we're starting a new case today. Old business lady killed in her car," Harvey said, sipping his coffee.

Jim didn't say anything as he picked it up and tried to read it over. _Mary Whitler, 62, white- wait no, Mary Pently, killed in her car outside of her apartment at 62 Whitler Street- ugh..._ His mind couldn't focus enough to get through even the first page of the file.

He just closed it and hoped Harvey didn't notice.

There was a sharp scream from somewhere across the room, and Jim winced, bagel wrapping crinkling in his now tight grip. Trying to ignore the sounds of the room, Jim took a bite of his bagel with a poorly disguised grimace. _Bad bad bad not good not good-_ He wrapped that back up and set it down next to the file, once again hoping Harvey wasn't watching.

"Your tag's out, Gordon," that was Essen's voice, coming from behind him. And then her hand was on his collar to tuck the tag in and- _shit oh god oh no- don't-_ _not good-_

Jim didn't even realize he had jerked away from her touch until he saw her confused and slightly worried expression.

"You okay?" Essen asked, eyes wide and hand pulled back toward herself. Jim nodded stiffly, shifting a bit in his chair. "Alright. I'll see you boys later."

"Yes, ma'am," Jim said. And then Essen was gone.

He brought his hands up to his face to rub at his eyes harshly, before leaning forward to cup his hands over his ears and tuck his chin toward his chest. All the noises were muffled now, and with his eyes closed the lights weren't pounding into his head, and he wanted to stay like that, just for a little bit longer, just to calm down that sick feeling in his gut for another second-

Tap- _oh god-_ Harvey was tapping on his shoulder- Jim knew he was pulling away this time, head snapping up to look at his partner. "What!?" he hissed.

Harvey took a step back. His hands were raised defensively. "Whoa, okay. Don't bite my head off. We've got the victim's daughter to talk to, you up for it?"

"No. I'm- I'm gonna stay here," Jim said through gritted teeth. Harvey narrowed his eyes for a second - he looked angry, Jim was sure he was angry - but then he shrugged.

"Alright, I get it, you're not in a good mood," he said, "I'll be back. Look through that file while I'm gone."

"Morning, fellas!"

"Ah, jeez," Harvey groaned, stepping back. It was Ed. He was standing awkwardly close to Harvey, smile on his face. "You get anything back on the toxicology report? We know what killed her? If it was some sorta poison Essen owes me five bucks."

Ed opened the file in his hands, grinned deviously, and then tucked it back under his arm. "I can turn an ear into a bear and an icicle into a bike. What am I?"

"You're a scrawny nerd that just got an ass whooping if you don't tell me what you found right now," Harvey said with a phony smile plastered on his face. Ed's smile dropped and he pursed his lips in annoyance.

"A bee. I'm a bee. Mrs. Pently was killed by bees," he said, "There were several found in her stomach during the autopsy. All dead, it appears they stung her en route to her stomach. She died in anaphylactic shock."

"So you're telling me," Harvey began, looping his thumbs through his belt and sighing, "This lady _swallowed bees._ "

"Yes."

Harvey closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "Okay. _Okay._ I'm gonna get that interview started."

Once he had disappeared, Ed turned back around to look at Jim, smile back on his face. _Don't talk, don't-_ "Good morning, Officer Gordon!" he said cheerfully, but his voice was too nasally and felt harsh on Jim's ears, "What is harder to catch the faster you run?"

"Breath," Jim muttered, eyes trained on the edge of Ed's glasses.

"Exactly!" Ed laughed, and then quieted when more shouted sounded from somewhere below them, not seeming to notice how Jim curled inward on himself at the noise. "Oh dear. That's dramatic."

Shaking, Jim dug his nails into his thighs, squeezing his eyes shut and bobbing his head back and forth. Another scream pierced through his head and he winced, trying to focus on breathing,  _breathe, just breathe-_ For a split second, he started rocking his whole upper half, forward, backward, forward, backward- but then he remembered where he was. Work. People. Judging. He had to be strong, he had to be Jim Gordon, hero cop, but how much longer was he going to be able to handle this without having a full blown meltdown-  _I should go home- but no- no I can't go home- I have things to do here- I can't just- I can't do this today-_

"Officer Gordon?"

He looked up, seeing Ed staring down at him. The lights were reflecting off his glasses, off his pale forehead, Jim's head was _throbbing_ in all the light because there was  _too much of it_ and  _god_ Ed was still staring at him-  _He thinks I'm being a freak, oh god- shit- if I look weird to Ed of all people then everyone else must-_

"What do you want, Ed!?" he snapped. His voice cracked. He was certain Ed was going to laugh. But all he got was a smile - Sympathetic? Understanding? - and then Ed was placing the file neatly on Jim's desk and leaning down slightly.

"Detective Gordon, you should come with me, the bullpen's only going to get louder," Ed said in the quietest voice he could muster without being inaudible. Jim couldn't tell if that was some sort of convoluted pity in his voice or if it was genuine kindness, but at this point he really didn't care. He just had to get out of there. "Come on, let's go."

Ed made no move to touch Jim as he stood up out of his chair, just turned on his heel and led him down the steps and through a doorway into a hall. Jim cringed and shielded his eyes - the lights were  _so much harsher_ in here - and stumbled a bit as he continued to follow Ed to wherever the fuck they were headed.  _Where the fuck Were they headed?_ Jim wanted to ask, but the lights were still burning into his head and it was too  _echoey_ in here and it smelled like  _shit_ and the radiator was on in the background and- he managed to swallow thickly and mutter a small, "Where..."

It seemed to get through, though. Ed glanced over his shoulder and smiled again.

"North American on the porch, South American in the living room, African in the dining room, Asian in the kitchen, Australian in the bedroom, but European here," he said, leaving Jim staring in confusion. "The bathroom. Get it? European? You're-a-peeing? Ms. Theresa from domestic told me that one."

"Funny," Jim said plainly.

Ed didn't say anything else as he pushed into the men's room, looking around to make sure they were alone before locking the door and fiddling with the light switch. Jim almost let out a sigh of relief when the lights were suddenly dimmer, some of the tension in his head released. He closed his eyes and rubbed his hands over them, trying to regulate his already quick and panicked breathing.  _In, out, in, out-_

"Do you do the tight spaces thing?"

Jim jumped slightly as Ed spoke, voice sharp and loud even though Jim knew -  _he knew_ \- Ed was speaking as quietly as he could. He uncovered his eyes, trying to feign ignorance. "Tight spaces thing?"

Ed nodded slowly. "It usually helps me a little bit." When Jim didn't say anything, Ed swallowed and made a vague gesture with his hands. "You know. With meltdowns and stuff." Again, no response, just a blank stare. "I've read your medical sheet."

_Fuck._

"None of your business, Ed," Jim snarled, but he was  _really_ starting to lose any control he had over how he was acting - all he wanted to do was for Ed to  _leave._

Of course, Ed didn't look like he understood that Jim was angry about that. He just nodded and smiled slightly. "I was diagnosed when I was five, I- uh. I kind of know the ropes and stuff."

"I'm fine, Ed. Just tired."

"Detective Gordon, I'm terrible at reading situations, but I can tell you're trying to act macho right now," Ed said calmly, "You don't need to. I- I know what a meltdown looks like, I just want to  _help._ "

"I don't  _need_ your  _help!_ " Jim snapped, eyes welling with tears.  _I need everything to stop,_ he wanted to tell him,  _I need people to not be talking to me, I need quiet and dark and nothing and-_ All his words were spent, everything else was catching in his throat and getting stuck. His legs felt weak and he just wanted to be alone and-

"Detective-" Ed started, but cut himself short when Jim winced, "Sorry. I'll stop talking. You know what? No- I can go. I'm going. If you need anything, you have my number."

"Thank you," Jim muttered, watching Ed turn around and open the door.

"Between the last locker and the wall. That's like. My place. It helps," Ed said quickly before leaving, and Jim could hear the cupboard outside of the bathroom opening and then closing, followed by the sound of something being placed outside the door.

He stood there staring at where Ed had left, still feeling beyond overwhelmed but glad to be out of the intense lights and loud noises, Ed's final words ringing in his head;  _Between the last locker and the wall._

Jim's head swam as he turned around, seeing a spot like Ed described that was just big enough for a grown man to squeeze into. The lockers cast a shadow that sent it almost totally into darkness, and Jim barely even registered what he was doing before he was walking between the wall and the lockers and sitting down.  _Ed was right, of course he was right-_

He sat with his knees drawn into his chest for a good minute, rocking back and forth gently with the knuckle of his pointer finger clenched between his teeth. It was getting easier to breathe. He could think a little clearly again. 

Jim didn't even realize he had fallen asleep until he heard someone whispering his name.

Opening his eyes, Jim found the foggy looking face of Harvey Bullock staring down at him. "Hey," Harvey said, offering a rarely seen _gentle_ smile.

He wasn't sure if it was just because he was feeling a little better or if he'd just never noticed it before, but Harvey's voice didn't make him cringe. Not like Ed's did, or like Oswald's did. Possibly a second past what was socially acceptable, Jim smiled back. "Hey," he echoed. 

Harvey jerked a thumb over his shoulder. "Nygma told me to come check on you. Everything okay? I knew you seemed off this morning, but I didn't think you were _this_ off. What's up?"

"I- um," Jim cleared his throat and focused his eyes on the brim of Harvey's hat, mustering up energy that was only barely there to talk, "It was really loud and bright. I- it messed me up. I'm sorry- I- this is stupid." It all came out in a whisper. Harvey just nodded.

"Meltdown, I get it. And I see that look on your face. Don't worry. I'm not judging you. Want me to take you home? Or better- back to my place. My apartment only has like one window, plus you wouldn't have to worry about Barbara askin' too many questions," Harvey said, standing up and leaning on the lockers, "I'm just a few minutes away. It's not like it'd be a problem."

Jim managed a nod.

Harvey smiled. "Good, okay. Hop on up, c'mon. I'd help you up but- uh. I know you don't like to be touched when you're having uh- you know. These kinds of days. If I'd known that earlier I wouldn't've... you know. Tapped you? I was a little... rude. You know."

"It's fine," Jim said, standing up and crossing his arms tightly across his chest. As they walked out of the room together, he turned his head toward Harvey, though his eyes stayed on the ground. "You know... you don't have to be nice to me just because of... uh. This."

"Honestly fuck off," Harvey chuckled, leading Jim out the side door and toward his car, "I can be nice to you any time I damn please. Get in the car. And don't fall asleep on the way there, cause you _know_ I'm not gonna carry your heavy ass up to my apartment."

They rode in silence until they pulled up at Harvey's apartment building, and as they climbed the stairs, Jim let a small smile slip onto his face. "Harv?" he said quietly, watching the man unlock his door, "Thanks."

"Don't mention it. Seriously. I've got a mean reputation to uphold."

**Author's Note:**

> pls talk to me abt autistic jim @frogyell on tumblr bc i thrive off of it


End file.
